


In Vein

by piginapoketuesday



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Aftercare, BDSM, Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Dom!Crowley, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Torture, Sub!Sam, TW: torture mention, tw: torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-17 15:46:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4672307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piginapoketuesday/pseuds/piginapoketuesday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Azazel's plan (sort of) worked and Sam now shares Hell's throne with Crowley. Except that Crowley calls Sam his Prince, and Sam is submissive to his King. Porn, porn, and more porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“What is my Prince doing out so late, hmm?” The gravel of Crowley’s voice tingled at the back of his neck.

Sam turned, dutifully. “Forgive me. The torture of my latest subject ran late.”

Crowley lifted his head. “And why is that?”

He swallowed. “I was distracted, my King, by his mouth.”

“Ah. My little slave, wet for a prisoner’s lips. You know better than that.”

He blushed hotly. “Yes.”

“Hands behind your back.”

Sam bristled, looking around the balcony to make sure they were alone. “H-here, Crowley?” He was nervous, but that did not prevent him from obeying his King.

The demon stepped up to him. “My Prince will bare his cock to me whenever and wherever I demand. Besides,” a grin so vicious it could flay a kitten crossed his face, “We must attend to your . . . ache.” His thick hand groped along Sam’s torso and slid down over the growing bulge in his pants.

A sharp and breathless groan escaped Sam’s lips. The flex of his throat, with that sheen of fearful sweat, made Crowley want to loosen his tie. Instead, he squeezed gently at the length and imagined dragging his teeth over the vulnerable head.

“Tell me, my pet, about this poor soul’s mouth.” Crowley did not even look up into his eyes.

Sam knew this was a trap. Divulging a petty mortal fantasy to the eternal creature that knew every sensitive inch of his body and took pleasure in exploiting those inches. Speak, and Crowley would make him whimper so keenly he’d beg to forget his prisoner. Stay silent, and the pain his master could inflict would make him beg to die.

“His lips were . . . quivering . . .” Sam’s breath hitched as Crowley ran a moistened thumb over his open mouth.

“Pliant?” Crowley asked, unzipping the trousers under his fingertips and taking care to make Sam unbearably aware of his own lips.

Sam swallowed again. “Yes. They were perfect . . . soft . . . the best shape for . . .”

The King dipped his thumb into his slave’s mouth and pulled slowly down on his bottom lip. “Say it.” His hand undid the button at Sam’s waist. Pressing his hand through the opening of the trousers, he slipped his warm fingers over the pulsating member beneath silk white undershorts.

“For . . . sucking me.” Sam wanted to burst. The feel of his King cupping him through the only sort of underwear he’d been allowed to have . . . the fingers teasing at the edges of his mouth . . . the eyes lewdly watching his stomach flinch at each new tender touch . . .

“How badly did you want to guide your dripping, slut cock to those lips?” He let his hand stroke up his slave’s crotch and slide under the waistband.

“That’s—that’s against the rules—Master, I wouldn’t—” Fingers encased his heavy balls and squeezed, forcing him to moan.

“Want,” Crowley emphasized, his accent thicker in his own arousal. “Tell me what you wanted, my insolent Prince, or I will lick the sweat from your throat before I slit it.”

Sam was in no position to lie. “Yes,” he whispered, “I wanted him . . . to taste me . . .”

“Mmm,” Crowley mumbled, cruelly, “Taste me.” He pressed two fingers into Sam’s mouth; gagging him briefly; playing against his tongue. “Taste me.”


	2. Chapter 2

Sam sucked, his neck flushed and hot under his collar.

“Perhaps I should keep you muzzled, my Prince. Keep your mouth busy and free of the temptation to kiss your victims on the rack.” Crowley could feel Sam’s tongue moving on his fingers the same way it so often moved on his cock.

“Mmm,” Sam mumbled.

“That makes you hot, doesn’t it, pet? Only being released to service my guests and me. And for meals, of course, on the rare occasion that we eat. But I would feed you . . . let you taste my fingers on each bite.” The King reveled in the desperate little bob that Sam’s cock did at his words. “You can’t hide your arousal from me, love.”

The Prince’s breath was short and afflicted. When Crowley removed his fingers from his mouth, he felt a loss.

“I wouldn’t dare to hide anything from you, master.”

“Hmm, and what about your little encounter with James last month?” Crowley’s eyes were dark and singed.

Sam flushed, and his cock jumped in the King’s hand, suddenly hyper-aware of its vulnerability. “That—he—it was only a flirtation, master. I—he was curious—”

“You marked him, did you not? Your lips kissed bruises into his throat. He moaned for you."

“Every—everyone is titillated by the idea of the Prince taking—"

Crowley put his hand on Sam’s jaw, gently, but with the intention to convey the ability to snap his neck in an instant. “My submissive, taking control with another demon?”

“Just a kiss, Master, just—" 

The King barely flinched, but his hand smoothed along the underside of Sam’s member.

Immediately, Sam felt his wrists clasped together by some invisible force, and something turned the arousal in his cock up to eleven. It was too fast, and he screamed as the single, gentle tug on his captive prick pulled ropes of cum into his master’s hand. He fell to his knees, slipping out of Crowley’s grasp and curling instinctively around his exploited organ. Sam caught a gasping breath, trying to recover and burning with shame and embarrassment.

Crowley took a handful of Sam’s long hair in his fist and forced him to look up. He touched his mouth roughly to the breathless lips and made the Prince feel like nothing more than a servant. 

“Just a kiss,” Crowley sneered, as he pulled away. “Do I need to remind you, Sam, that your cock belongs to me. Your ass belongs to me. Your nipples. Your fingers. Your _mouth_ belongs to me. The only throat you should be bruising is mine, and you will beg me for the pleasure. Do you understand, my fragile, wanton slave?”

Sam swallowed, maintaining eye contact. “Yes, master.”

“Remember our agreement, or I’ll see to it that you cum the instant I touch you. And I will touch you as often as I please.”

The younger demon was afraid, but even so, a chill of arousal ran through his body. How he loved his cruel, playful master and all of their time together, despite the painful ache between his legs.

“Touch yourself.”

Dread coiled in Sam’s stomach. He searched Crowley’s eyes for even a hint that he was joking.

“Yes, my Prince, I know it will be unbearable. But I need to see those slender fingers of yours working their torture on your softened, bare prick.”

Sam didn’t want to give the safe word, but he almost whimpered at even the thought of subjecting his flesh to that kind of hell.

“Do I need to ask again?”

 

~

 

Sam was shaking, his hand wrapped delicately around his own cock. “Master, I beg you, let me rest.” 

“Rest.”

The young demon opened his hand and emitted a sigh that was more pain than relief. “Thank you.”

Crowley knelt, the expensive fabric of his suit rubbing the stone floors. He snapped his fingers, and both his slave and the room were clean. Gently, he raised the Prince’s chin. “You did well. I’m proud of you.”

Though Sam had been washed by the King’s magic, he was sweating through his suit again. “Thank you, master,” he managed.

“Do you ache, love?” Crowley asked, his hands carefully pressing Sam’s legs closer together.

That word. His King only used that word in his presence when the aftercare had begun. His whole body relaxed as much as was possible for him in that moment. “It’s . . . too much.”

“More than below the belt?”

Sam swallowed. Every pore of his skin felt hypersensitive and vulnerable. “Yes." 

Crowley leaned forward and pressed his mouth to the hollow of Sam’s throat, testing. It was slick with Sam’s sweat.

“Please, don’t,” Sam whimpered. Immediately, his master backed away. “I can’t.”

“You never gave the safe word, Sam. You let me take you here.”

He looked down. “I wanted it. I thought . . . I thought it would be worth it.”

“How many times did you cum by your own hand?”

Sam flinched. “Five.”

“Consecutively.”

His lip twitched into something of a sneer. “You punished me like a damned soul. You gave me a task you knew I couldn’t—” 

“I didn’t know. Sam, I swear on Satan I didn’t know.”

The Prince looked up fiercely. “Then I suppose I disappointed you, shaking like a beaten dog, unable to stand even a kiss.”

“No. I failed.” He watched his pet, clad in a full suit, his red and hardened member protruding rudely from his undone zipper. The sheen of sweat defiling his neck. Hands gripping the floor. “I went too far.”

Sam’s face fell, no longer angry. His nerves were screaming, but he reached for Crowley and touched his cheek. He pulled, and the King leaned further to touch their lips together. It was agony, feeling all of those sensations at once. Even the scent of his master made his swollen cock twitch. He winced at the brush of Crowley’s stubble against his palm and at the barest pull of flesh against flesh. It hurt, but he wanted to experience his torturer in intense detail.

“One . . . one finger. Touch my chin.”

Crowley obeyed. He kept his caress light, just barely grazing skin beneath the trim shadow of hair.

Sam held his composure, hoping he could handle the next part. “Lower.” He kissed the line of Crowley’s forehead, tasting salt and musk and skin.

The finger found Sam’s throat and traced his subtle, heaving breath like sun on a blade of grass; just enough to heat. The Winchester swallowed, subconsciously trying to escape the probe that aroused his senses to the point of pain.

“Sam, you’re pushing yourself too f—”

“Lower. Don’t make your slave beg you to touch him. I’ve begged enough tonight.”

Complying, Crowley stroked the wet curve of the demon’s neck until his finger found the hollow base. He pressed, just slightly, until the thrum of Sam’s violent heartbeat could be counted.

Sam moaned, the sensations making him dizzy. “Y-your mouth, Master.”

The King understood. Slowly, he replaced his finger with his lips, and his tongue dipped gently in to taste.

Eyes closed, Sam let the agony and pleasure consume him. The intimacy terrified him. The trust exhilarated him. The extent of his torture lay in the heat of the mouth over his heart.

When the brief kiss was over, Crowley offered Sam a hand. “Come with me. We’ll see if you can stomach a bath. You did so well, love. And, for the record, the bruises you left on James were lovely. You know as well as I do that I have no one to be jealous of.”


End file.
